


Given

by Cloud9Dreamer



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Rape, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexism, casual man-hating, not graphic though, not really - Freeform, somewhere in western europe during the late 1700s, what setting is this?, wlw, wlw erotica
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloud9Dreamer/pseuds/Cloud9Dreamer
Summary: Jasper -formally "Jane"- has lived a rough life. A father who abused her and her mother until his drinking killed him, a face and body too big and broad to be considered "beautiful", and a desire for women instead of men. In a time when women are only allowed to be wives and mothers taking care of the home, she rejects the norms by dressing in men's clothes and working as a blacksmith, typically a "man's" job. Not wanting to become like her mother and be abused by a man, and too frightened of being caught with a woman, she devotes herself to her work and providing for her aging mother and step-father.But when she is found out to be a woman working a man's job, she's arrested and would be sentenced to death...if not for the lovely Princess Rose. Struck by the princess's beauty, passion, and defense of her life, Jasper creates two gifts to thank the princess. What follows is a story of eroticism, freedom, and responsibility.





	Given

As a woman, your only acceptable role is as mother and wife. You let your husband take you whenever he pleases, carry his child, give birth to that child, and feed, clothe, and raise that child. You must also cook all the food, and clean the home. All the while, your husband is off working, or even with another woman.

My mother lived that kind of life. I was lucky to be born, her only child. She clothed me in dresses, taught me how to cook, sew, clean, and please my future husband. But I saw the way my father treated her. Coming home drunk, smelling of another woman's perfume; ready to do nothing but rape my mother and shout at me for my refusal to get him another drink. I swore to myself that I would never marry a man like my father. I would fall in love with a man who truly cared for me.

But as I grew older, I realized that men didn't catch my attention as other women did. Women, with their soft skin and flowing hair, their bright smiles and feminine bodies. I realized that dresses and corsets made me feel restrained and strange. My father eventually died of his drinking, and my mother married another man, who was much kinder. I stopped wearing women's clothing. I started wearing pants and loose shirts that covered my chest, which I bind with tight cloth. I cut my hair, and changed my name from Jane to Jasper. People began assuming I was a man, so I've gone along with it. But I've kept my desires for women to myself. If anyone were to realize that underneath my clothes are breasts and no cock, I would lose everything.

I became a blacksmith's apprentice, then took over when he deemed me ready. He knew my secret, but told me that I worked too hard to be denied a man's salary. I worked...so HARD. For ten years; since I was sixteen years old. But it's all been swept away from underneath me in one night. Someone found out my true sex, and I've been thrown in jail, awaiting my sentence from the judge come morning. What is my crime? Apparently, "false identification". Unbelievable. I'll most likely be raped and married off to "correct" my self-image. I'll die before that happens. My mother didn't raise me and protect me from my father's drunken rage by offering her body just to see me thrown to the same wolves.

Morning comes, and I'm taken to the courthouse to stand before the judge, who introduces himself as Judge John Baker. He doesn't idle around. "Miss Lindley, do you understand the crime of which you have committed?"

"I merely go by a nickname and wear clothing more suited to me and my work. I never insinuated that I was another person," I reply firmly.

Judge Baker looks down at me in disbelief. "You have made it clear that you believe you are a man. Is that correct?"

"No. I never told anyone I was a man. I simply reject feminine clothing."

"Why is that?" he asks.

"I don't find myself comfortable in corsets and dresses," I tell him. "Breeches and shirts are more favourable to me, especially considering my profession. I cut my hair because I work in hot conditions, and did not wish to overheat."

The judge folds his hands and leans forward. "Miss Lindley, it is the woman's job to care for the home. You should be married and with children by now. Yet you are working a man's job, taking away a salary that could go towards a man's family."

"I provide for my aging mother and step-father," I argue. "I have no desire to carry a child given by a man, but I do desire to raise children one day. I simply must meet the right woman." I'm already going to be killed. I may as well give them all my secrets.

Judge Baker's eyes widen, the rest of the courtroom gasping and whispering. "Miss Lindley, are you telling me that you reject your role as a woman by lying with a woman instead of a man?"

I straighten my shoulders, lifting my chin. "I'm a woman who only loves other women. Nowhere is it written that says I must devote my life to a man instead of a woman, whom I favour considerably above men. If that means I've rejected womanhood, then so be it."

The courtroom whispers louder, and Judge Baker pounds his gavel to regain order. "Miss Lindley," he begins, "you cannot simply change your sex."

"I have no desire to do so," I argue. "I merely wish to work and provide for my family, and to love women as purely as possible. I don't wish to have a man strip me of what I've worked so hard for, and to make me nothing more than a maid of which he rapes when he sees fit to relieve himself."

A hush falls over the courtroom, and Judge Baker seems to pale for a moment before regaining his composure. "Miss Lindley, it is a woman's role to take care of the home. This involves pleasing her husband in bed."

"My mother was raped everyday by my father, to keep him from killing me," I inform him. "She was beaten and taken against her will right in front of me, bleeding and bruised and screaming behind the hand he slapped over her mouth to not alert the neighbours. As if they would have cared if they had really heard. You men apparently believe that it is a woman's place to be nothing more than a slave to her husband."

His face pales once more, and the courtroom is in upheaval over my statements. I look behind me at the people of the village who decided to come to my trial. Men are the ones who are shouting I be hanged. There are no women in the room. Except for one, who is seated in the back row, wearing a dark cloak with the hood covering most of her face. But I can see her lips, plump and pink as flowers. I have no doubt that she is the only one on my side.

"Order! Order in my court!" Judge Baker shouts, nearly breaking his gavel with the force of his strikes on the stand. "Miss Lindley, you are an endangerment to our society."

"How? I've done nothing against the law!" I insist.

"You are taking a job that a man should have to feed his family, and you are stepping out of your sex's role as caretaker of children and the home. If we let you continue, MORE women may believe they can do what men do. Then who would raise the children and care for the home?"

"BOTH man and wife," I declare. "All a man is good for in the home is providing a seed for children. Women are fully capable of working jobs to pay for food. Why should a woman work thrice as hard as a man and receive nothing but rape in return?"

Judge Baker once again must bring the room to order. "Miss Lindley, I repeat: you are a danger to our society. You rebel against natural order of the sexes, and therefore must be made an example of to ensure no other women attempt this upheaval. I sentence you to hang."

He lifts his pommel, but just before he brings it down, a strong voice shouts, "Wait!" Everyone turns to see the woman in the back stand and rush out of her row, down to stand beside me.

"Madam, this is no place for a-" Judge Baker starts, but stops immediately and pales when the woman draws back her hood...revealing the princess herself. Her royal highness, Princess Rose. Every man in the courtroom moves to their knees, the only woman they'll pay respect to. Judge Baker stands and bows. "Your highness! Forgive me for speaking out of turn!"

"You would have this woman hanged for speaking the truth?" she demands, her voice stern and even a little angry. "For speaking out against the abuse of women in this village? For working a difficult job to pay for her aging parents as they cannot work themselves? What SHAME you bring on yourself, Judge John Baker."

The judge goes far paler than before, a light sheen of sweat covering his balding forehead. "B-But, your highness, this goes against all laws of nature. Women are the fairer sex, more catered to nurturing children and staying at home while the stronger men work to provide."

"You have clearly not been fully educated in the matters of life as I have," the princess mutters. "Allow me to enlighten you." She turns to eye the men behind us, all of whom are too frightened to meet her eyes. "ALL of you. Men ARE the stronger sex. That is true. You were built bigger, with different muscles than women. Before we were civilized, men would go out and hunt, whilst the women would do EVERYTHING else. They cared for the children, yes, because the men were absent hunting, but they also ran the village, were healers, story-tellers, midwives, farmers, gardeners, gatherers, ANYTHING the community needed whilst the men were away doing nothing but hunting animals for meat and pelts. Even if men were not able to hunt, the women would go out and hunt in their stead. On the grander scale of things, Miss Lindley is right: men are only good for giving their seed to a woman to create life."

"You would speak that way against your father, the king?" Judge Baker questions.

"My father is well-aware of my beliefs," Princess Rose replies, her head held high. "He is also well-aware that I myself favour women far above men. We had planned to announce it some time in the future, but I will be ruling the kingdom with no king. Before the days of the patriarchy, women were viewed as goddesses, held in high esteem. Even in other kingdoms, women are treated better than here. I shall change that."

She turns back to the men behind us, who cower before her powerful gaze. "And you, who demanded this innocent woman be hanged for speaking out against the treatment of her own mother, let alone the women you swore to protect when you married them, I certainly hope your wives are treated well. As of this day, I shall dedicate my power to keeping women and children safe from the insipid anger and hatred of you men. If I hear word of you mistreating your wives, you will punished. You expect a woman to carry your child, to cook and clean for you, to please you in bed, yet you abuse her? You will face justice both here and in death. Understand?"

The men nod their heads. "Yes, your highness."

She nods once and addresses Judge Baker once more. "By order of the princess, release Miss Lindley. She shall be free to return to her work as a blacksmith and provide for her family. She shall be free to wear whatever attire feels appropriate for her, and she will never require a man in her life if she so insists. Understand?"

The judge drops his gavel in a scramble for it. "Yes! Yes, your highness!" He has to clear his throat before speaking again. "Miss Lindley shall be dropped of all charges, and shall recommence her position as blacksmith come tomorrow."

With that, he brings his gavel down and the trial is over.

A guard approaches and unchains my wrists, bowing to the princess when he retreats. Judge Baker makes a hasty exit, as do the other men in the room, but Princess Rose remains with me.

I quickly kneel and place my hand over my heart, bowing my head. "I can never thank you enough, your highness. I owe you my life." I feel as though I'm in presence of the goddesses she mentioned. She stands so tall despite her short stature, and she glows like the sun. Her passion and ability to command the entire room of men makes me think she was truly born to rule the kingdom.

Warmth spreads across my scalp when she places her hand atop my head. "You owe me nothing. I owe my messenger quite a sum of money, however, for alerting me of your trial. It's rare that I venture outside of the castle on my own, but I found it necessary. I will have no innocent person hung."

When her hand leaves, I boldly look up at her. She truly is the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom, with her long, dark curls and large, light brown eyes. Her ample breasts are nearly spilling out over her tight bodice, which accentuates her small waist. Small, but with a presence about her that speaks of high intellect, compassion, and a demand for respect. My stomach feels as though it's a jungle, my face burning at this bright sun standing before me.

"I do believe you've made yourself an enemy of every man in the village, I'm afraid," I point out.

She simply scoffs, waving her hand. "It matters not to me what these men think of me. By birthright, I will be their queen, and they will have no choice but become better men or face justice. Hopefully, the sons of our wives will be raised with honour, not ownership towards their mothers and sisters."

"I can only hope, your highness. Surely, there must be something I can do to thank you for saving my life today?" I ask. "I could make you a crown, if you wish. Made of pure silver or gold. Or jewelry. Whatever you desire."

Her smile is warm, her eyes kind. The light pinkening of her round cheeks makes my stomach feel like a rainstorm. "If you think it necessary to repay me for protecting you, then I shall merely ask for something to remember you by. Give me your finest work. Something you feel great pride in making. Be it a sword, shield, or whatnot. Make me something that I shall treasure for all my life."

"Yes, your highness."

It is no small task. I realize that I know not enough about what the princess enjoys. I see her once a year on her birthday, when the kingdom celebrates with a large party. We will see her from the castle, waving to us and announcing the beginning of the festivities. She never joins us down in the village, but most hardly care. The day is an excuse to drink and relax from work. While the men go to the bars, the women celebrate a day to themselves, often congregating in each other's homes to discuss parenting and the latest gossip. I actually quite enjoy the quiet time, though my step-father is a very softspoken man -and is often mocked by the other men in town.

But, what I mean is: I don't know much about the princess. She's smart, smarter than all of us. Her mother and father pay highly for her education with the greatest tutors they can afford. She's known for being outspoken, yet gentle; kind, but firm; and romantic, but has never chosen a suitor. After the trial, it makes sense why. She shall be a sole queen, ruling the kingdom on her own. It will give her double the responsibility, but greater power. I'd had no doubts before the trial, but now...

What does an intelligent, romantic future queen desire from a lowly blacksmith? What could I possibly make for the princess who has it all? Not a suit of armour. Not a sword. Not a hammer or hoe or blade. She already has crowns and beautiful jewelry, no doubt. What could I make her that would be something she keeps with her her whole life? My best work. My best work.

Mother startles me with her hand on my shoulder. "You've been up long enough, my darling," she smiles softly. All the years of being hurt by my father have left her battered and disfigured, but she has looked far better since his death, as though the weight of his abuse was finally lifted, giving her more years to live. And the earnest love of my step-father and my success make her smile often.

"I have to come up with SOMETHING to make for the princess," I tell her, though none of the designs I've come up with speak to me as my best work.

"Jasper, she'll understand that the best you can come up with will take time," my mother says assuringly. "Go to bed. Perhaps your dreams will point you in the right direction. If not, you shall be well-rested to come back to your desk tomorrow."

Not wanting to disappoint her, I agree and go to bed, praying that my dreams will grant me SOMETHING to create.

A deep, throbbing ache awakens me sometime before dawn. Memories of my dream flash behind my eyelids. Warm, sweat-slicked skin, plump lips kiss-swollen and parted in breathless moans of my name, my fingers tangled in long, dark curls, tugging as I seal my mouth over a taut nipple. I feel wet and empty between my legs, as though I've begun bleeding.

Running my hand over my face to wipe away the sweat, I feel the shame build within me. Why on Earth would the princess choose to give herself to ME like that? To let me see her soft, naked body, to touch her smooth, golden skin and kiss her pink lips? She deserves someone of higher intellect, from a background of wealth and experience.

But her voice in my dream...sighing my name as I slid my fingers inside her wetness...the way she smiled and reached for me...Damn. My best work. My...My best work.

Of course! Something only SHE could treasure! Something she would see and immediately think of me!

Leaping out of bed, I bathe and eat breakfast quickly before running off to my shop.

A week later, I take our only horse, Millard, to the castle. My gift -well, two gifts actually- to the princess are tucked safely inside my pack. I've dressed myself in my cleanest pair of black pants, white shirt, and black jacket. I've brushed my hair to keep it comely, and cleaned my teeth. I bathed for quite a while this morning as well. I must look my best.

I've been having that dream every night, of skin-to-skin and mouths and hands everywhere, my fingers and tongue buried deep inside her wet cunt. I've never wanted a woman so badly. And yet, I want her all the more knowing I can never have her. Let these gifts be enough to keep me in her thoughts on lonely nights.

I'm allowed entry into the castle by the guards, and for the first time, I get to see how the wealthy royal family live. The castle itself is decently-sized, I suppose. Big enough for the royal family, the guards, and all the other members of the royal court. But it's every bit as refined and elegant as a lowly peasant could imagine. There are flowers in fancy vases, portraits of past royalty, stained glass windows, fleur de lis all over, and all other sorts of wealthy home decorations. The floor is polished marble, the walls covered in golden vines and embellishments, and the ceilings painted with flying cherubs in pink skies.

"This way, Miss Lindley," one guard says, leading me further inside the castle, past the throne room, up a flight of stairs, and another, and another, down a hall, and finally ending up at a door. The guard knocks, and my stomach twists when I realize this must be the princess' chambers.

A pretty young woman with blonde hair answers the door. "Yes?"

"Miss Lindley is here to present her gift to the princess," the guard says.

The woman looks me up and down, her eyebrows furrowed, before nodding and letting me inside. The princess' chambers are at least twice as large as my whole shop. Everything is pale pink and golden. A sitting area here, a desk topped with papers and books there, shelves upon shelves of even more books and trinkets. There is a door that must lead to a bedroom to my left, and that is where the young woman leads me to.

The bedroom is mainly filled by a large bed topped with numerous pillows. There is a wardrobe opposite it, with a vanity not too far away. There are more shelves of trinkets and jewelry and crowns. There is what I believe to be a diary on the bed, and paintings of the princess throughout her life, dressed in beautiful gowns, cradling flowers and kittens. In fact, there is a snow white cat lying peacefully on her bed.

And rising from her vanity is Princess Rose. Her curls are once again bound atop her head, but instead of the pauper-esque blue and pink gown she'd worn when we met at the trial, she's wearing a luxurious light green gown, sparkling red earrings in her ears and a necklace sitting against her collarbones. On top of her head sits a golden tiara. She radiates beauty and elegance, and my loins throb at the sight of her smile when she sees me.

"Good morning, Miss Landley. I hope your trip was uneventful," she says as she crosses the room to me.

"Nothing to tell a tale about," I reply.

Her smile grows. "Leave us be for a while, Melanie. This is a private moment."

Melanie curtsies, then exits the room, leaving us completely alone. "Are you sure you trust me to be alone with you, your highness?"

"Considering everything you said at your trial, I truly do not believe you would lay your hands upon me without consent," she smirks. More throbbing between my legs. "Have you brought me your gift of thanks?" she asks.

"Yes, of course. I apologize for taking so long," I say. "I actually have two for you. One is more formal, the other...well..." Now that I'm actually here, I feel absolutely shameful for having made it.

"We shall see," she decides, her little heels clicking on the stone floor as she goes to sit on her bed. She pulls her fluffy cat into her lap, gently petting it before smiling up at me. "Go on, then. I've been so excited."

The first gift, I feel immensely proud of. Blacksmiths work not only to create weapons and tools for soldiers and villagers. We also create works of art, though I had not been commissioned by anyone to create such things, given how small the village is. But for the princess, I've carved a small, wooden box, covered in elegant wrought iron flowers with a finely-detailed rose on the front centre.

Princess Rose's lips part as she examines the box. "This is incredible! Such detail made with iron! I cannot begin to imagine how long it took you to create this beautiful rose. And it's wonderfully heavy."

"Your second gift is inside," I tell her, feeling my throat threaten to close at the innocent curiousity on her face.

She unlatches the box and opens it. I can't see the gift inside from this angle, but the surprise on her face and the flush that speads across her cheeks are enough. I spent the majority of my time, skill, and materials to create this gift: a small, but very detailed bronze statue of the two of us. Both naked, her legs have been thrown over my shoulders with my face buried between her thighs, licking at her most private place. Her hair hangs loose with her head tilted back, her lips open and eyes closed in pleasure. I can certainly say that no one has ever created statuary like this, CERTAINLY nothing that one would give to a princess. But she asked for my best work, and my mother told me to follow my dreams. Combining those two ideas resulted in this. My declaration of lust towards this woman who so quickly defended me and saved my life. Because of this beautiful, headstrong princess, I've been given the chance to find happiness. And though it shall never be given to me by her, I hope she will at least understand my adoration of her.

Her expression is difficult to understand as she holds and examines the statue, only slightly larger than her hands. She turns it this way and that, looking at every detail I spent countless hours working out. The curve of her breasts, her toes curled as her legs are draped over my shoulders, every little curl that is stuck to her face with sweat. My dreams were so real, I'd thought I was sleep-walking to take her to bed every night.

"This truly is your best work, is it not?" she whispers, continuing to look at the statue.

I nod my head. "Yes, your highness. Forgive me for being so bold and...lecherous. I was...dreaming of us in this manner. I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Her eyes widen and meet mine. "You were dreaming about us like this?"

I nod shamefully, looking away. "I wanted to...tell you how I felt."

For a moment, the only sound is the soft purr of her cat. Then, she sets the statue back in the chest, latches it shut, and slowly stands, her cat lightly leaping off her lap and the bed to explore other places. I watch as the princess crosses the room to place the chest on a shelf beside a golden crown. She stays there for a moment, her back to me as she takes off her earrings, necklace, and tiara. I swallow to wet my dry throat, my heart thudding so hard I fear it might burst from my chest. What will she say? Will she send me away? Order my hanging afterall for lusting after her in a no way a mere peasant should?

I hold my breath when she turns and fixes her eyes on me. They seem to burn through me, baring me down to my very soul. She crosses over the room again, but this time stands before me, merely a foot away. She's shorter than I am by a head, causing her to look up at me. So close, I can smell her perfume, see the moles dotted across her face, the tiny flecks of green in her eyes.

"No one has ever been so bold with me before," she tells me, her round cheeks still flushed. "Many men have tried to take me to bed, but I turned every one of them away. None of them...fascinated me. None of them cared about MY pleasure. But you..." Her chest heaves as she takes a deep breath, and I strain to keep my eyes on hers instead of her lips or breasts. "You've dreamt about that. About giving pleasure instead of receiving it. You created art to commemorate your desires for me. I don't..." She sucks in another deep breath, her hand coming up to press against her heart. "I have never felt like this about someone before."

My heart feels as though it may leap right out of me and sink into her chest, to hold her heart against mine. "Neither have I."

Her eyes meet mine again, sparkling, yet growing dark. "Kiss me?" she breathes.

With her consent at last, I gently cradle the back of her head in one hand, the other moving to her waist, and when she tilts her chin up and closes her eyes, I lean down and kiss her. Damn. Damn it all. Her lips are so warm and SOFT, and the little pleased moan that escapes her vibrates over my mouth. Her delicate hands move up to grip my shoulders, her fingers digging into my jacket when I lick at the seam of her lips with my tongue, asking for entry. When she gasps and parts those pretty lips, I slip my tongue into her mouth, drinking in her surprised moan as I explore her mouth and tangle her tongue with mine. The kisses become frantic, hands in each other's hair or gripping at clothes. She whines every time my tongue retreats from her mouth, and her hands slide down to ruck up my shirt, touching my bare back and making me shiver. Desire burns hot and tight between my legs, throbbing insistently.

When I pull back to breathe, I open my eyes to see her face so flushed, her lips swollen and a small line of saliva trailing down the side of her mouth. Her eyes open halfway, darker than before, like the moon eclipsing the sun.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her. "Princess, I..."

Her smile is small but genuine. "Call me 'Rose'."

"Rose." Her name spills over my tongue like wine. The swollen bud between my legs throbs harder at her sweet smile. "I want..."

Her hands slide down my sides, making me shiver. "What do you want, Jasper? Do you want me?"

"God, yes, yes, I do," I mumrur, leaning down to kiss her again. "But, I have never...Not with anyone..."

"It's all right," she assures me, taking her hands from me to unbutton and slide my jacket from my arms. "I may not have taken a woman to bed yet, but I know how to please myself. Have you pleasured yourself before?"

I nod my head, staying still as she unbuttons my shirt. "More often than usual this past week," I admit.

"My body will react the same way as yours, then. Touch me in the same places. Kiss me there as well. I want you to please me as you've dreamt of," she says, pushing my shirt down to the floor as well. Only my binding keeps my most feminine feature hidden. "May I?" she asks.

A sudden panic chills my blood, and I shake my head. "Not now."

She simply nods her head and gets down on her knees to pull off my boots and socks. I feel as though my mind comes to a halt. "P-Princess! You'll dirty your dress!" I insist, though the sight of her like this burns the fire within me, especially when she starts to undo my pants.

"It can be cleaned," she replies simply, tugging my pants and undergarments down, exposing me between my legs. "Step out," she instructs, and holds the clothes down as I step out of them.

"You will be much harder to undress," I say, helping her back to her feet.

"Just be sure not to tear anything. I quite like this dress," she says, turning around.

Thankfully, it appears to be just buttons on the gown, and I easily undo them down her back, kissing the back of her neck. Even though I know the fashion of this time, the rigidity of her bodice lined with whale bones surprised me.

"How on Earth do you move in these?" I ask, running my hands over the corset-like attire that hugs her form like a second skin.

"With much practice," she giggles, stepping out of her heels and kicking them aside. I slide the sleeves down her arms, taking the bodice with them. The gown and underskirt fall to the floor in a pile of silk, leaving Rose in her poches, petticoat, stockings, and chemise. "Untie the poches first," she instructs.

I do so, and once the padding is cast aside, I get to see her real, wide hips. When she came to my trial, she wore a much simpler gown to blend in with the villagers, wearing only a chemise, corset, and gown. Now I take off her petticoat, stepping close to wrap my arms around her.

"Your little friend must be wondering what we're doing," I say, kissing her soft neck.

"I'm sure she knows. She is uncomfortable with my desires for women. She believes I have feelings for her beyond friendship," she tells me.

"DO you?" I ask, kissing her warm cheek.

"No. She has always been my closest friend. I would have been quite the lonely child without her," she admits. "But, ah, she is...How would you say it? She is not the kind of woman I desire."

"And what IS the kind of woman you desire?" I ask, holding her thin waist, our skin only separated by her thin chemise, but I can feel her warm body just beneath it.

"A woman stronger than I," she whispers. "One who will treasure me. Who will care not for my wealth or status, but only for me. A woman who will-" She sucks in a shaky breath when I run my tongue over the shell of her ear, her hands covering mine. "Oh, God, Jasper. The bed. Take me to bed."

"Yes, your highness," I smile, swinging her into my arms easy as breathing. Laying her gently on the bed, I loom above her, reaching down to tease the hem of her chemise. "May I?"

When she nods her consent, I slide my hands under the hem and lift it up, the fire within me burning hotter and hotter with each golden inch of skin revealed. The patch of hair between her legs is trimmed, unlike mine; neat and tidy. Her breasts are round and dotted with two, pale, pink nipples, already peaked under my gaze. She lifts her arms so I can pull the undergarment off of her, tossing it to the floor. Now all that's left are her stockings, held up by leather garters at her thighs. The stockings are even thinner than her chemise, with little pink bows on the tops. And when I run my hand over the silken fabric, I can practically feel her skin underneath.

"Will you be taking those off as well?" Rose smiles, her cheeks flushed once more.

I smirk down at her, lifting her leg up to kiss her knee. "No, I don't think I will."

Her lips part as she gasps, her breasts rising and falling before she reaches out for me. "Jasper."

I happily lean down to kiss her, thrusting my tongue into her willing mouth as I cover her body with mine. Her breasts press against my bound chest, her spread legs and groin cradling my hips. Her fingers tangle in my hair as she moans and whimpers under my mouth, and I grind my hips down against hers, our cunts becoming slippery as they rub together. Pleasure unlike anything I've felt is dizzying me. All I can think of is making Rose feel even better.

She gasps when I pull back, a string of saliva connecting our tongues before breaking. For just a second, I see the open lust on Rose's face before I duck down to kiss at her neck once more. She tilts her head to the side, providing me more room. Something instinctive in me has me sucking harshly to bring about dark red marks on her skin. Each suck makes her body arch beneath me, soft moans and gasps escaping her.

"You smell delicious. Do you taste just as good?" I wonder aloud, kissing down her throat and pausing to make more marks upon her collarbone.

"Why would I tell you," she chuckles, "when you may find out for yourself?"

"You're just as bold as I'd imagined," I smile, kissing down her stomach as she spreads her legs wider for me.

"I've dreamt of this as well," she admits, making my stomach seem to flip.

Unable to think of an adequate response, I wet my lips, watching my fingers expose her slick, pink cunt. Here, I can smell her, her light, feminine musk. My mind becomes fuzzy, as if I were drunk. I can't hold back any longer.

"Ah! Oh, Jasper! Yes!"

I can hardly hear Rose over the pounding in my ears. She tastes sweet. I had no idea a woman could taste sweet! When I tasted my own wetness, I thought it a bit bitter. But Rose, oh, Rose is like wine. Her cunt is so wet, so WARM. I lap at her buttonhole, where her taste is the purest. One of her hands runs through my hair as her hole clenches as my tongue runs over it.

"Ah, dammit, Jasper," Rose moans, rocking her hips up against my face.

"Does it feel good?" I ask, my voice slightly muffled by her cunt as I lick at her swollen bud.

"Ahh! Yes!" she whimpers. "Oh, God, don't stop!"

How could I even think of stopping when she's making such pretty noises. Her hand fists my hair, holding me to her as I suck her little pearl into my mouth, running my tongue over the underside where I've found myself to be the most sensitive. Rose's back arches, and I trace the curve with my hand underneath her before lifting her legs over my shoulders. I pull back to suck on my fingers, returning to her throbbing bud and pressing my fingers to her buttonhole.

"One first. One first. Ohh, yes! Yes! Ah, now another! Fu-Fuck me!"

As though I could stop when she's meeting every thrust of my fingers and bucking up against my mouth. Her heels are digging into my back, her hands tugging at my hair. I need to feel her go off, her "little death" as the French call it. I need to hear her voice break as she screams my name, lets the whole kingdom hear how well a woman can fuck their sweet princess.

"Jasp-Jasper! I-I'm melting! Oh, God! Mel- Ahh!" Rose cries, her thighs trembling and her cunt quivering around my fingers as I merciless continue to fuck her with them. Her nub of pleasure throbs to her erratic heartbeat under my tongue. She pulls so tight on my hair that it brings tears to my eyes, but her whimpers and cries sound almost pained as her wetness drips down my fingers, and I just can't bring myself to do anything but make her melt over and over.

It's only when she pulls me back and off of her do I stop. My lips and chin are dripping, Rose's cunt soaked with saliva. Her wetness dribbles down my hand and wrist, the bed beneath her damp. Slowly removing my fingers, I don't hesitate to take them in my mouth to lick them clean. She tastes even sweeter than before. I don't drink, but I imagine this fog in my mind and the heaviness of my body is what being drunk feels like.

One hand now gently runs through my hair. "Jasper," a soft voice whispers.

Opening my eyes, unsure of when I closed them, I find Rose smiling down at me. Her body is covered in a dark flush, small curls plastered to her face and neck with sweat, just...just like the statue. So beautiful.

"Are you all right?" she asks me when I do nothing but stare. Her smile is just so hypnotizing.

"You taste amazing," I say when I find my voice.

She chuckles breathlessly, propping her top half up and bringing her legs off my shoulders. Her hair, knocked loose, tumbles down her back and over her shoulder like a waterfall of ringletts. "Come here. Let me kiss you."

A spark of heat shooting down my spine reminds me of how aroused I still am. Leaning up, I part my lips for HER exploring tongue, unable not to moan as we share her taste. Even just her fingers in my hair make me feel only a moment away from going off as well.

"Would you like me to touch you, too?" Rose asks softly when she pulls back.

I feel as though I should nod and lay back, let her bring me over the edge as well. But something, a big part of me, has me shaking my head, my skin feeling prickly. "No. I-I'm sorry. I don't..." My stomach whirls, my blood turning cold at the thought of her touching my breasts or cunt.

Rose pulls me down with her as she lays back on the bed, wrapping her arms and legs around me. I bury my face in her neck, smelling her perfume as she pets her hand over my head once more. Her gentle touches soothe the rush of fear that ran through me.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she coos. "If you don't wish for me to touch you as you touch me, then I shall respect your boundaries. Is there anything I CAN do to make you feel good?"

I try to think of something. I'm not fond of the idea of her mouth or hands between my legs. But..."I- when I'm home, I bunch a pillow between my legs..."

Rose hums. "I understand. You can rub yourself against my thigh."

"Yes, that sounds perfect," I sigh in relief, straddling her thigh when she raises it. "Ohh." Her skin is just so soft, but then she tenses the muscles there and it feels fantastic on my cunt as I grind down. With her neck right here, I seal my mouth over her pulse.

"That's it, darling. Ah, you're so wet. Do you feel good?" she asks, keeping her hands on my neck and back.

Her sweet voice and firm thigh coax me to completion, and I muffle my groan of pleasure with my teeth in her neck like an animal. But when I release her, she simply soothes me as I catch my breath.

With our minds muddled with satisfaction and the warmth of each other's bodies relaxing our tense muscles, I lose track of time. I watch the sun come back out from behind the clouds, drenching the room in golden light. Rose trails her fingers up and down the knobs of my spine while I trace the curve of her side. For some time, it's as though nothing else exists outside of this room. It's just the two of us, not a princess or blacksmith, not two women, but merely two people basking in the afterglow of ecstasy. I can feel Rose's steady heartbeat, her breath fluttering my hair. If I were a witch, I would stop time right here, held in the arms of my lover.

A sharp knock on the bedroom door is what shatters the illusion. "Your highness? Are you all right?"

I nearly leap off the bed in my attempt to untangle myself from Rose's hold. "Shit! How long have we been alone? The guards must think I've KILLED you!" I hiss, scrambling for my clothes.

Rose sits up on the bed, closing her legs for the first time in what must have been hours. I miss the sight of her pretty, pink cunt immediately, though her large breasts hanging freely on her chest have me tripping out of my pants.

"Jasper, I assure you, if they thought you were taking my life instead of taking my innocence, they would have barged in long ago," she tells me with a raised, plucked eyebrow.

I still continue to get dressed. "What if they tell your father? What if he has me killed? I'm no prince, no duke, nothing. I cannot offer you anything. Certainly not money."

Rose slides off the bed and, still completely nude, walks over to me and cups my face in her soft hands. "Japser, listen to me. My father is a good man. He adores my mother and myself. Has never once laid a hand in anger upon us. He raised me to live without men other than himself in my life, and so he accepts my rejection of taking a husband. Jasper, he KNOWS that I favour women. He KNOWS that I desired you after your trial." She chuckles then. "No doubt he knows exacly what we've been up to today and will tease me about the affair at dinner tonight."

I close my eyes when she leans up to kiss me. "Are you sure he will accept this? Accept US?"

"Yes," she smiles. "He may have a word to say about your wealth, but your profession is admirable, as is your loyalty to your mother. He would MUCH rather you be my lover than some selfish prince who would only see me as a beauty to collect."

Relief lowers my shoulders and eases the tension in my neck, and I lean my forehead down against hers. "Then we are truly blessed."

Rose slides her hands down to rub my shoulders. "No one here will have you killed. You're safe here."

"Here. But what about the village?" I ask.

She sighs through her nose. "I shall speak with Father. He was livid when I told him about the treatment of women down there. He disapproves of any abuse of women and children. But he wants ME to work with the Council to...resolve this matter. New laws, perhaps. Teaching the sheriff the signs that things are not well at home for these women. I will do my best to fix things." She tilts her chin up to kiss me once more. "I'm loathe to see you go, but we both have duties to attend to, do we not?"

I nod, also loathing that I must leave, must take my hands from her warm waist. "When can I see you again?"

"In three days, on Sunday after Mass," she says. "I often take leisure time afterwards."

Three days. Will my heart survive that long without even the sound of her voice?

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for any mistakes! This story takes place around Western Europe in the late 18th century. So, think the 1770s to the 1790s in terms of fashion and plot. So, the French revolution will probably take place in this story, but will not affect this plot that much, as it's not the same country. But, for terms of fashion -which I worked very hard on researching JUST for scenes where Jasper is undressing Rose-, think of Marie Antoinette shortly before her death. "Poches" are essentially hip-pads, which were very popular back then after the whole enormous hoop skirt fad. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! But I hope you enjoy some wlw content!


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